


Sunset And Evening Star

by Shenandoah76209



Series: Tennyson [2]
Category: Firefly, Pitch Black (2000), Serenity (2005), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenandoah76209/pseuds/Shenandoah76209
Summary: Jack escaped the Academy.  Just her luck to crash land on a hellish planet.  Funny how the big bad seems more interested in her and her mysterious behavior than Johns.  Just a small snippet of why 'the girl' was bleeding.  A prequel to 'I Hold It True, Whate’er Befall'.
Series: Tennyson [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926952
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	Sunset And Evening Star

**Author's Note:**

> Sunset and evening star,  
> And one clear call for me!  
> And may there be no moaning of the bar,  
> When I put out to sea,
> 
> But such a tide as moving seems asleep,  
> Too full for sound and foam,  
> When that which drew from out the boundless deep  
> Turns again home.
> 
> Twilight and evening bell,  
> And after that the dark!  
> And may there be no sadness of farewell,  
> When I embark;
> 
> For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place  
> The flood may bear me far,  
> I hope to see my Pilot face to face  
> When I have crost the bar.  
> -Crossing The Bar, Alfred, Lord Tennyson

_They say the brain shuts down in cryo sleep..._

_._

_All but the primitive side..._

_._

_The animal side..._

She can't hear him but she knows the thoughts that are floating through his mind. And she hears another voice, female, older and wise with tragedy, echoing beyond his thoughts.

_._

_All but the Furyan side..._

.

She doesn't know what it means. Not yet anyway. Maybe she'll never know. Or maybe enlightenment will come in the next five minutes. Sight is a tricky thing. She isn't a Precog, not quite. Those are rare and seize her mind with a vise like grip that's impossible to mistake. Seeing though...Seeing is different. Past, present...happening a foot away or an entire galaxy, everything and nothing floats through her brain.

She knows too much nonsense and not enough of what she truly needs. The knowledge she craves is somehow denied her while the minutia of other lives tries to rush into her head. A pilot on the third run of her career under an experienced captain and first mate. A landing pilot who needs experience before she can handle ships with cargo that walks around.

A priest, one of the odd new religions that sprang up before everyone left Earth That Was, Chrislam. With three orphaned boys he was shepherding to New Mecca. A good man, if a bit too trusting for someone as old as he was. But she supposed that was one of the character flaws expected in a priest. She'd never heard of a suspicious priest really. Unless the man in question was running a con.

_._

_No wonder I'm still awake..._

* * *

" _Tā mā de niǎo_ ," Jack cursed as the clippers refused to work. Her hair was spilling down around her shoulders. She should just rebraid it up under her cap but she really didn't want to think of what would happen if Johns figured out she was a girl. She might look like a kid but she had enough years to know that a merc learning about hidden things was never good.

She lifted her shirt and checked the bandage on her side. Still not bleeding. That was good. Hopefully her stitches would hold. Duct tape holding the fabric against the wound onto her skin and no sign of blood through the silver and calico. The best she could do really, under the circumstances.

With a sigh she removed the two layers of shirts, critical for hiding her figure, or lack thereof, and her definite lack of Adam’s apple and regarded her skinny frame morosely. She barely needed the athletic bra, but she felt better having it. She still didn't understand why she wasn't growing. Why wasn't her body changing? She was past old enough but it was like she was stuck at the same age as when...

Jack jerked her head away from the thought and in an instant Saw... Riddick was nearby. She'd have to be very quiet, almost not breathe if she didn't want him to get curious and not pass this little house by. She took a slow breath and forced her heart to slow, pressed a hand against her chest to remind herself to breathe in measured shallow intakes of the barely there oxygen. It didn't matter what she'd Seen while she was stuck in cryo. Riddick might not kill kids, might not really even care if she was female but she couldn't afford to have anyone know. She Knew he wouldn't kill her, he didn't kill kids, didn't even really kill women if he could avoid it, but if he found out... He might not be able to resist taunting Johns with the knowledge.

She felt her heart rate speed up at the thought and barely prevented herself from cursing again. Fear was a bitch to deal with, sneaking up on her, slipping into the cracks and pooling in her stomach until her heart was pounding with it. And then it was too late.

"Heart's goin' awful fast for such a tough kid," Riddick's voice sounded just outside the door.

" _Chòu mǎniào_ ," Jack grabbed for one of her shirts, too late as the huge man pushed the door open.

He was surprised, she could see it on his face even if she hadn't Known it. She'd actually fooled him for a little while. He hadn't given a thought to her until she'd disappeared from the rest of the group. "What in the _cào dàn_..." Riddick stared at her. She Knew exactly what he was seeing, the subtle curve of her hips, the slight swell of her barely there breasts and her hair, trailing down her shoulders and back.

"Shit," Jack sighed and just sat down on the floor.

Riddick, to give him credit, shut the door and locked it against the eyes of anyone else, "Kid, what are you doing?" He moved towards her, stopping a few feet away and crouched down to look at her curiously.

"I was gonna buzz my hair off," Jack said glumly pointing at the clippers on the counter. "Figured people would think I was imitatin' you. Boy hero worship you know?" She sighed and shrugged, "Already scared Paris some, pretendin' I was you. Nobody woulda been too surprised."

"Why?" He wasn't judgmental, his tone was pure curiosity. "Figure you're pretendin' to be a boy so nobody tries to get with you. Street life isn't easy for anyone but its worse for girls."

"Yeah," Jack nodded slowly. "Somethin' like that." She knew Riddick had no interest in messing with her. "I don't want Johns lookin' too close at me." She said finally, "You ain't the only one bein' hunted on the HG."

"What were you in for?" Riddick's voice grew softer, as if he'd guessed it wasn't something she discussed. His expression was almost gentle as she glanced at his face.

"Bein' me," Jack shrugged and shook her head quickly. "Cain't talk about it. But I didn't break any law."

"All right," Riddick nodded slowly drawing his own conclusions. Jack looked at him and figured he was probably thinking she was on the run from an abusive home. But he wouldn't betray that. She'd Seen enough of his history to know that he'd never turn a kid over to the authorities and especially not Johns. "So you were gonna buzz off your hair."

"Yeah but the clippers are busted and I don't have the tools to fix them," Jack shook her head again. "So I was gonna just cut off as much as I could. Enough to pass for a boy again. Didn't realize how much it had grown until I took off my cap. Had it braided up, hidden under it."

"Well let’s see what we can do," Riddick extended a hand to her and she took it, not with her left as he might have expected, but with her right. When she stood his expression grew dark and she followed his gaze to the large patch of duct tape and fabric at her waist. "Who did that to you," He growled the question.

She shivered part of her responding to the pure beauty of the sound, to the pure promise of vengeance in his voice. "Part a why I had to ditch the last ball of dirt I was on. Took a sticker to my side. Got it stitched up okay, but I'm glad I'm right handed."

"Lemme see," He was furious. She glanced up at him in surprise and he put her against the wall, one huge hand covering her stomach to hold her in place. "I'm not kiddin' kid."

"I doused it with that shit that bubbles and burns," Jack told him trying to swat his hand away. "And I sewed it up. It's not bleedin'. Leave it alone."

Riddick, typically, ignored her and pulled the makeshift bandage away to look at the wound. Jack rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall as he studied the inch-wide slice into her flesh. She'd been lucky, the blade had sunk into her flesh from the front, it hadn't been long enough to hit her kidney, and the jerk's aim had been bad anyway. If he'd angled it more either way she'd have a three-inch tear in her side or he'd have hit her organs. She stiffened slightly as Riddick tugged the fabric away from her wound and almost smacked him on the head when he pressed on the slightly red flesh with careful fingers. "That hurt _niū niu_ ," He asked with a frown.

"Yeah, some," She admitted trying to keep her breathing even.

"Looks like you're getting a bit infected," He told her. "Need to open it and clean it out."

" _Dì yù_ ," Jack sighed and moved towards the kitchen to pull open drawers. She'd found the knife there, the clippers in the bathroom, now she was hoping her prior search had missed a pair of scissors.

"What are you looking for?" Riddick was watching her from the doorway.

"I don't wanna make it worse by trying to cut the stitches with the knife I was gonna use on my hair," Jack told him shortly. "And I need salt."

"That's gonna burn like hell," He observed moving into the room and searching the taller cabinets. "Got the salt," He said after a moment and threw it at her. Jack reached out and caught the plastic canister without thinking and immediately became conscious of his surprise. "Interesting," The huge convict drawled turning to look at her.

Jack turned and regarded him patiently, "I'm not an idiot." She shrugged and left the room, feeling his eyes on her back as she did so. A search of the bedroom revealed a set of nail scissors and the bathroom yielded dental floss along with an emergency sewing kit. Laying her prizes out on the little entryway table she eyed the wound in the mirror. Taking a deep breath she began to cut her previous stitches as he watched.

He was interested, very interested in how steady her hands were, his eyes never left them. When the last of the stitches were gone Riddick took the scissors from her hand and tugged her down to the floor, "All right. Now you let me look at it." He told her flatly. "I found some more of that shit docs like to pour on wounds. If we have to, I can open it and clean it out again."

"Really not interested in that happenin'," Jack told him in the same tone of voice. "Just do what you hafta. I get an infection Johns'll... well. I don't like my chances." She knew exactly what would happen. If she went unconscious around the merc someone would try to help, would take off too many of her clothes. Johns would find out she was a girl, and that would be the end of her freedom. If he didn't learn who she was exactly he'd still keep her as a whore.

"Yeah, that is not gonna happen," Riddick's voice growled. "Just hold still an' try not to make a lot of noise." Jack nodded and took a deep breath forcing her lungs to work evenly as Riddick began to clean out the wound again. The problem with stickers was they were essentially puncture wounds, very hard to clean out properly. Riddick had found something like tweezers along with the peroxide and was digging into the wound. She fisted her hands but managed to not scream, managed to keep breathing steadily through the pain. He made noise that sounded approving and bent his nose to her belly, smelling the wound. "All right, just a little more," His voice was low and rough but somehow still reassuring. "You had something stuck in there...tip of the sticker it looked like. Musta hit bone and broke off."

"Jerk never was any good at usin' his tools," Jack muttered and clenched her jaw. "You gotta stop a second...I gotta breathe without..." He lifted his hands away from her skin and she shuddered, taking deep breaths without the stinging pain for one moment and focusing on the whereabouts of the other survivors. She could almost feel Riddick's gaze sharpen on her and had to wonder what it was he saw or smelled that he knew something was different about her suddenly. She focused outward and found Johns and Fry, still talking about the skiff, Imam and his boys were working on the water reclamation device. Shazza was working on the sand cat while Paris fetched and carried for her. No one had noticed they were both gone yet. "All right, we're good. Do what you gotta do."

"Yeah," His tone was speculative as he poured the liquid over the wound and Jack ground her teeth together to keep from crying out. "Easy," Riddick murmured. "Almost done." She nodded jerkily and focused on his face, his eyes fixed on her wound, "When'd this happen? You were almost healing around the junk I pulled out." He had doused his hands in something to clean them and threaded a needle with the dental floss.

"Before I got on the HG," She muttered her answer quietly. "Part a why I was on board. Used everything I'd scraped together, bought passage. They weren't looking at papers too close, weren't even chargin' much. Guess that was because a you. So thanks. Couldn't have afforded passage if they hadn't dropped the price."

"Sounds like what the Imam would call a mixed blessing," Riddick's voice was grimly humorous as he began to stitch the wound shut. Jack took one look at what he was doing and rolled her eyes.

"You do this a lot?" She shook her head at his large stitches.

"In this heat, with lack of water, and the moving it'll hafta do, I think," The big man didn't look up from his work. "I think you're better off with big stitches, double weaves, and the best bandage we can get."

"No," She shook her head, "No blood. I can't bleed at all." Jack knew that was a bad idea, as sure as she knew Johns wasn't trustworthy, blood on this rock was a bad idea.

"Dunno how we could manage that," Riddick looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "We bandage you up good enough Johns won't be able to tell you're wounded."

"There was some glue, in the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen," Jack told him. "If it’s still good, it'll seal up the wound. At least for a while. Let it dry and then bandage me on top of it. I saw some pads in the bathroom. Cut them in half, use the duct tape to hold them on me."

"Kid that's gonna burn as bad as the salt," He told her with a frown.

"Yeah, but it beats bleeding," She shrugged. When he moved towards the kitchen she took the canister of salt and took a half handful, dumping it on the wound and pressing it against the stitches hard. The pain was like fire but at least she knew the whole thing was clean, and the salt would absorb and dry out any excess blood. Along with the glue it would seal to her skin and the stitches. By the time she healed up the skin cells would have regenerated enough that the whole mess could be pulled off with the stitches being snipped and tugged out of her flesh.

Riddick came back with the tiny pot of glue and cursed filthily when he saw what she'd done, " _Niū niu_ , you are some kinda _chī xiàn_." He knelt and began to dab the glue on top of the stitches and glue. When she didn't even scream he nodded and kept going. Finally it was dry enough that she could cut a pad in half and layer it over the wound, grabbing her ever diminishing roll of duct tape from her pocket. Riddick took it from her and expertly began to apply it to her skin, holding the makeshift bandage on.

"Gotta hurry," Jack began to push herself up and blinked as huge and gentle hands lifted her to her feet. "They'll notice we're both gone soon, gotta get rid of this hair."

"Here," Riddick handed her a knife made out of bone, "Use this."

Jack grinned, "Better than the steak knife." She agreed and began to hack at her hair, cutting it to just above her chin and then carefully shortening it around her face. Before she could start to mess with the back Riddick was lifting the shiv out of her fingers and expertly trimming the back.

"You smell upset," He observed quietly. He was fingering the dark locks she'd tossed onto the table.

"It’s the one thing makes me look like a girl," Jack told him as she studied her reflection. "Sometimes I wish I could be one again. 'Stead a always havin' to hide it."

"Somebody already tried you," Riddick was guessing but Jack supposed it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened to her.

"Yeah..." She took a deep shaking breath as she remembered that day and saw him inhale deeply and scowl.

"When?" Riddick growled quietly as she found her hat and a pair of busted goggles to protect her eyes.

"Few years back," Jack kept her answer vague. She really didn't want to answer in detail and have to explain her entire history. "Part a why I won't go back." She left it at that and had the satisfaction of seeing Riddick's face go utterly blank and furious at the same time. "Don't worry about it. As long as Johns doesn't...well... He thinks I'm a boy, be safe enough."

"He won't find out from me. ‘Sides he's gonna end up dead b’fore we get off this rock," Riddick promised in a low angry growl. "But better that you put those shirts back on. And leave one of them untucked." He ran a hand down her spine, "Because if I'm lookin'? All it takes is one look at that cute ass of yours Jack an’ I know you're a girl."

"Yeah right," Jack rolled her eyes and began to pull her shirts back on. "Ya don't have to try an’ make me feel better Riddick. I know I'm a skinny as a rail and flat as a board. Long as no one sees me with my shirt off...no one'll be able to tell I'm a girl."

"So you got some growin' to do," Riddick shrugged and picked up a few hanks of hair, absently knotting them together. As she watched he shoved them in his pocket, "Still pretty enough that cuttin' your hair and hiding your face is a good idea. The goggles'll help with that."

"Yeah," She took one of the shirts she'd found and began to rip it into strips, wrapping it around her waist and ribs, thickening her middle. Her pants were baggy enough that she didn't need to stuff a sock down her panties but she was glad of the collar that hid part of her throat. She was very conscious of his gaze on her and looked at him, "What?"

"Just thinkin’, you're pretty...well, you don' act like a kid," He said slowly and Jack paused slightly in her work to look at him.

"I been on my own a long time Riddick. You of all people should know how that changes a body," She said finally. "You want anything from the kitchen, knives, stuff like that? I haven't taken much. Figured I'd hang onto that boomerang. Like that thing. And I've got my steak knife in a pinch."

"Gimme a bit and I'll make you a shiv if you think you can use it," Riddick offered as she pulled the goggles on and pushed them to her forehead before she pulled her cap on over them.

"I won't turn it down," Jack slanted a grin at him and then nodded at her reflection. "Better get goin' though. Johns is about to come lookin' I'll bet."

* * *

Riddick left the house and continued his explorations. Despite the amount of time it seemed like he'd spent with little Jack it had only been about forty minutes. Judging from Johns' scent, spiraling up and down, the merc would be more worried about his next spike than Riddick, at least for another few minutes. He wandered towards the coring room and watched as Jack snuck out of the house and back behind the buildings. His sharp ears could hear her light as she was, as she scrambled up to the roof of a building.

She was an interesting little thing, everything calculated to appear tough and boyish. Even her insistence on carrying that hunting boomerang, something a boy would do. He'd had his doubts about her gender when he'd first gotten a whiff of her scent, after Zeke and Shazza had broken her out of her cryo container. The space had contained her concentrated scent, and it had burst out at him like peaches, silk, and steel along with a healthy dose of overripe cherries. She'd kept mostly quiet, in the background, as far as he could see, had avoided Johns as if he was the devil.

The convict took a long look back at where little Jack was hiding from Johns and anyone else who might guess her secret. Tough little thing like her, she wouldn’t ask for any help. That was all right. Didn’t mean he couldn’t keep an eye out for her like he would any other kid. And Johns would end up dead sooner than later if he touched her. That was something to look forward to. The merc’s inevitable demise.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this. It seemed like this little snippet would be a nice glimpse into these two during Pitch Black. If I get inspired hopefully I'll have more little pieces like this.
> 
> Chinese Translations: 
> 
> Tā mā de niǎo (goddamn it)
> 
> Chòu mǎniào (Stinking horse piss)
> 
> cào dàn (fuck)
> 
> niū niu (little girl)
> 
> Dì yù (hell)
> 
> chī xiàn (crazy / insane)


End file.
